by Ben Kane
They had soon established that Arnax belonged to an old man who lived on his own with a handful of slaves. As long as he kept the floors, the kitchen and the courtyard clean, Arnax was left to his own devices. This discovery had permitted the pair to relax a little. Their spirits had risen soon after when the boy had reappeared with a tunic and a pair of sandals for Navio, as well as some food, and water from the house’s well.
They had readied themselves to leave around midnight. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get Arnax to join them. ‘When the soldiers haven’t found us by daybreak,’ Carbo had warned, ‘they’ll retrace their steps. It will be easy to see where we jumped over the wall. Two big shitty sets of footprints will lead to this door. When they arrive to talk to your master, there will be one person to blame. You.’
At that, Arnax’s thin face had paled.
‘Come with us,’ Carbo had urged him. ‘You’ll be free, like everyone else in the army. We can always use a clever lad like you.’
‘I’m only eleven.’
‘That’s of no matter. The cooks, the blacksmiths and the grooms who look after the cavalry’s horses always need help.’ Carbo had seen the disappointment in Arnax’s dark eyes and relented. ‘Or you could keep our gear clean and cook for us.’
‘I’ll do it!’
And that had been that.
Taking a piece of rope from the scullery, the trio had stolen through the city, grateful for the total cloud cover that had reduced the light at street level to almost complete darkness. The friends had then been even more thankful for Arnax’s presence. He had a keen sense of direction, and had guided them to the south wall, avoiding a number of patrols. Once they had spotted the sentries pacing the battlements and timed the frequency of their passing, it had been a simple enough affair to climb up, fix their rope to a pillar on the ramparts and scramble down to the ditch at the foot of the wall.
From there, it had been a long but satisfying walk to their encampment, which they had reached just after dawn. Arnax’s eyes had grown to the size of small plates at the sheer number of men and tents, and Carbo had clapped him on the arm. ‘See now why there’s a feeling of panic in Mutina?’
Showing the awestruck Arnax to their tent, the pair had left him with instructions to cook them breakfast. They had gone in search of Spartacus at once. Wary of being punished, both were reluctant to confess the full story of what had happened. If asked to explain the ripe smell still emanating from Navio, they had decided to say he’d drunk too much and fallen into a dungheap as they’d walked through the dark streets. Carbo had had to fish him out.
They found Spartacus seated at his campfire, talking to Castus and Gannicus. Atheas and Taxacis stood nearby as always, like two guardian wolves.
Castus grimaced as they approached. ‘Phoah! Someone stinks of horse shit.’
Gannicus smiled at Navio’s embarrassment. Even Spartacus grinned. ‘What in the Rider’s name happened to you?’
‘Where have you been?’ demanded Castus.
They didn’t know about our mission, thought Carbo. Spartacus wants to show them how smart he is.
‘Mutina,’ said Navio.
Suspicion flashed across Castus’ face, and he shot a glance at Gannicus, who didn’t look happy either. ‘What in Hades were our two Romans doing there, Spartacus?’
‘Falling into dungheaps. What else?’
Castus’ face grew red. ‘Don’t try to be funny with me.’
‘Why were we not told of this?’ growled Gannicus.
‘Do I have to tell you everything?’
‘You used to share with us what you were planning—’
‘You are here now,’ interrupted Spartacus curtly. ‘They were gathering information. You can both hear their report first-hand. Is that not enough?’
Castus made to say more, but Gannicus, who looked angrier than Carbo had ever seen him, laid a hand on his arm. Glowering, Castus subsided into silence.
‘Your mission didn’t all go according to plan, I take it? I don’t recall telling you to fling yourselves into horse shit.’
‘We had some problems, sir,’ replied Navio awkwardly.
Spartacus’ eyebrows made a neat arch.
‘We, err . . .’ Navio hesitated. ‘We had a few drinks. I ended up in a dungheap. Carbo pulled me out.’
The Gauls chortled.
He hasn’t had to lie. Carbo felt a trace of relief, but it didn’t last. Yet.
‘Nothing wrong with that, as long as you also did what I asked to.’ Spartacus’ voice had lost its amused tone. ‘Did you discover anything?’
‘We did,’ said Carbo, eager to move on. ‘Longinus is planning a surprise attack as we advance past the town. Apparently, there’s an area of hidden ground within range of the road north. That’s where his ballistae will be.’ He wasn’t sure why, but Carbo did not mention what the legionaries had said about the recent Roman victory over the Thracians. He was grateful that Navio didn’t either.
‘Fucking Roman bastards,’ Castus ground out. Gannicus agreed loudly.
‘Do you know where the spot is?’ asked Spartacus.
‘No.’
‘Or how many catapults he has?’
Carbo shook his head in apology.
Spartacus rubbed a finger along his lips, thinking. ‘It’s a clever move. Longinus could have twenty ballistae – or more, if he thought of this a while ago. A good workshop can turn out one piece every few days. Naturally, the artillerymen will have ranged them in beforehand.’ He turned to the Gauls. ‘Imagine the carnage, say, two dozen catapults would cause. They could release six volleys before our soldiers had a chance to respond.’
‘And that’s when the legions would attack,’ said Gannicus.
‘It is. Was there any more, Carbo?’
‘No,’ he said uneasily.
‘It’s of little matter. That will be Longinus’ plan for sure. But now we can do our best to make sure that he fails.’ Spartacus’ gaze grew distant.
Castus wasn’t happy, however. ‘Why didn’t you find out more?’
You’re not the one who risked his life to find this out, thought Carbo furiously. Instead, he said, ‘Because the soldiers who mentioned it walked away.’
‘Then why didn’t you follow them?’ came the instant retort.
‘We couldn’t,’ replied Navio with an irritated look.
‘Were you too pissed? Is that when you fell in the dungheap?’ sneered Castus.
‘Does it matter?’ interjected Spartacus. ‘They were never going to be able to do much more than eavesdrop on conversations anyway. If they’d made themselves obvious, they wouldn’t be here now. Returning safely with news of Longinus’ plan is sufficient.’
‘So you say,’ snapped Castus. ‘I don’t, though. There’s far more to this than meets the eye. Eh, Gannicus?’
‘Aye. The pair of them are as shifty as a cuckold when the husband arrives home.’
‘You don’t trust them?’
‘No,’ Castus snapped. ‘They’re Romans.’
Spartacus’ expression hardened. ‘We’ve had this before. Both of these men have proved their loyalty many times!’
‘They say that blood is thicker than water. I’ve always agreed with that myself,’ said Castus.
Which is why I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you, you Gaulish dog.
‘I say we beat it out of them,’ suggested Castus belligerently.
Rather than defend his men, Spartacus eyed Gannicus. ‘Do you think the same?’
‘They’re holding back something. That’s as clear as the nose on the end of my face. As the leaders’ – Gannicus laid especial emphasis on the last word – ‘of this army, we’re entitled to know everything – and to find out by whatever means necessary.’
Now is not the time for a quarrel. There is a battle to fight. Spartacus rounded on the friends. ‘What the fuck happened?’
They didn’t say a word.
‘By all the gods! Unless you want Castus a
nd Gannicus and their men to teach you both a lesson you’ll never forget, speak!’
Shocked now, Carbo glanced at Navio, who gave a resigned shrug. ‘There were soldiers everywhere in the town, but none of them were saying much. It was obvious that they’d been ordered to keep their mouths shut. We’d had little luck at a restaurant, so we moved on to a number of taverns. We heard nothing, so decided to try out an inn favoured by soldiers’ – Carbo felt his cheeks flame – ‘that was supposed to have good whores.’
Spartacus’ brows rose, but he hid his amusement. Atheas and Taxacis chortled at Carbo’s embarrassment, but the two Gauls were far less happy. ‘You got sent to Mutina on an intelligence mission, but you were more interested in emptying your ball sacks. It’s unbelievable!’ barked Castus.
‘And then?’ said Spartacus.
‘Navio went upstairs with a whore.’
‘How did you pay for her services?’ The question was voiced softly, but there was no missing Spartacus’ threat.
‘I had a couple of aurei with me,’ replied Navio unhappily.
‘Despite the fact that I told you to take only a little money.’
‘Yes.’
Spartacus’ lips thinned to a white line. ‘You’ve got a nerve. Go on,’ he directed Carbo.
It was time to admit his foolishness. Carbo felt sick. ‘I went to the forum.’
‘What for?’
‘To find a scribe.’
‘A scribe?’ Spartacus’ eyes bulged.
‘Yes. I dictated a letter to my parents in Rome.’
Both the Gauls let out disbelieving laughs.
‘Are you a complete fucking idiot?’ cried Spartacus.
‘If anyone had seen you, they had only to read the note to know who you were,’ roared Castus. ‘You need your stinking Roman head cut off!’
‘I didn’t send it,’ said Carbo quickly. Quailing before Spartacus’ ferocious expression, he went on, ‘but someone must have seen me, because soon after I returned to the inn, a party of soldiers searched the place. I was recognised, but I managed to run upstairs. Fortuna guided me to the right door.’
‘You would have deserved it if they had caught you,’ muttered Castus.
But you wouldn’t know about the hidden catapults, thought Carbo furiously. He had the sense to keep this retort to himself. ‘We jumped out of the window, and scrambled down to the inn’s yard. I ran into a gap between two buildings, but it led to the stable dungheap. There was no option other than to climb up it, and over the wall. Navio didn’t have any clothes on’ – here he ignored the Gauls’ mocking laughter – ‘and he fell over as he was trying to climb up.’
‘You must have burst in when he was in mid-thrust,’ said Castus with a leer.
‘Err, I was quite busy, yes,’ said Navio, looking angry and very uncomfortable.
Castus and Gannicus sniggered. The Scythians guffawed. Even Spartacus laughed.
‘You managed to escape, though,’ Gannicus’ tone was a touch more friendly than before, which encouraged Carbo. A little humiliation was better than more accusations of treachery.
‘Yes. We jumped over into an alleyway. I checked out the exit, but the street beyond was full of soldiers. We thought that was it, but the gods intervened again. A door in the wall of a house opened and a slave boy came out. I told him who we were, and asked him to help. He did. We simply walked inside and he shut the door.’ Carbo grinned at the memory. ‘A moment later, a couple of legionaries landed in the alley, and passed right by us.’
‘That was when we heard about Longinus’ ambush,’ added Navio.
‘Our job was done. We waited until it was very late, and then, guided by the boy, we made our way to the defences where we scaled the walls. It was easy to get back here,’ said Carbo.
‘You’re a pair of fools,’ Spartacus snapped. The Gauls loudly echoed his words.
Knowing that they were by no means out of danger, the friends looked at the ground.
‘But . . . if they hadn’t done what they did, we wouldn’t know that juicy bit of gossip. Eh, Castus? Gannicus?’
‘The gods move in strange ways,’ admitted Gannicus.
‘Happy, Castus?’
‘No. Always trying to cover your men’s arses, aren’t you, eh? Why bother? It’s a wonder that the fools managed to come back alive.’
‘Yet they did, and with useful information,’ said Spartacus.
‘I suppose,’ said Castus grudgingly.
‘Next time you have a secret mission in mind,’ said Gannicus, ‘I want to know about it beforehand, eh? Either we’re all leading this fucking army, or we’re not.’
‘Agreed,’ lied Spartacus. He had no intention of telling the Gauls of everything he did, but he needed their support in the forthcoming battle. ‘Next time, I’ll be sure to fill you in.’
Castus’ grunt conveyed every shade of suspicion under the sun. Gannicus looked a little happier, but that was as good as he’d get.
Spartacus’ eyes moved to Carbo and Navio. ‘The next time I give you an order, I want it obeyed to the letter. No taking gold coins instead of small change. No deciding to write letters to your parents.’ He gave Carbo a particularly stony look. ‘I’ve never heard of such stupidity in my life. The only reason I’m not letting the Scythians loose on you is because of your previous record. If anything like that ever happens again, you’ll both end up as pickings for the vultures. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’
‘Yes,’ they muttered in unison.
‘Be certain that you do.’
They shuffled their feet, all too aware of the Scythians’ predatory eyes on their backs and of the Gauls’ glowering anger.
Spartacus’ attention moved on. ‘Some cavalry must be sent to reconnoitre the road past Mutina,’ he announced. ‘If they see anything suspicious, they’ll mark its position, but ignore it. Let the Romans think that their little secret is safe. We can send out more scouts under the cover of darkness.’
‘Once the spot has been found, we destroy the catapults!’ Castus’ face was fiercely eager.
‘Damn right we will,’ snarled Gannicus. ‘And Castus and I will be in charge.’
Spartacus saw the level of their anger, and wondered if he should have told them about Carbo and Navio’s mission. Would it have mattered if he had? ‘That’s just what I was going to suggest.’
‘Good, because we’re going to do it anyway,’ snapped Gannicus, grimacing as Castus growled in approval. ‘A thousand men with buckets of oil and some torches is all we need to turn Longinus’ artillery into little piles of ash.’
‘Fine.’ Spartacus pulled an encouraging grin. Keep them sweet for the moment. ‘Once the ballistae are out of the way, we’ll only have two legions to think about. The ground to either side of the road is flat. It won’t matter where we face them.’
‘I can’t wait,’ snarled Castus. ‘We’ll slaughter the cocksuckers.’
‘With the help of the Great Rider, that’s exactly what we’ll do,’ said Spartacus with satisfaction. He didn’t say a word about the Alps. Such a controversial topic would set Castus and Gannicus off again. He shoved that problem to one side. ‘We can talk about the exact details when the cavalry return.’
‘Fine,’ said Castus. He eyed Carbo. ‘What was the name of the boy who saved you?’
‘Arnax.’ What do you care?
Castus grunted. Then, talking animatedly with Gannicus about how they would destroy Longinus’ forces, he left.
Deep in thought, Spartacus began poking a stick into the fire. It was a clear sign of dismissal.
‘I need a wash,’ said Navio quietly. ‘And breakfast is waiting. Coming?’
‘Not yet,’ replied Carbo. He framed the word ‘Lucullus’ with his lips and Navio nodded in understanding.
‘See you.’
Carbo found Spartacus regarding him quizzically when he turned. ‘Was there something else?’
‘There was, actually.’
Spartacus scowled. ‘How else did you disobey my
orders? Atheas! Taxacis!’
‘It’s nothing like that,’ said Carbo, his heart racing.
Spartacus let the Scythians come right up to Carbo’s back before he lifted a hand. ‘What then?’
Carbo wiped away the sweat that had sprung out on his brow. Gods, why didn’t we do just as he said? ‘The Romans suspect that you’re going to leave Italy.’
‘That’s not surprising given the route we’ve taken so far,’ said Spartacus dryly. ‘Why do you mention it?’
Carbo checked that that the Gauls were well out of earshot. The Scythians had Spartacus’ trust, so their presence didn’t matter. ‘They also said that Marcus Lucullus has inflicted a recent heavy defeat on Thracian troops who’d been fighting for Mithridates. He’s now continuing his campaign into Thrace.’
Spartacus spat an oath. ‘You overheard exactly that?’
‘Yes.’
‘What else did they say?’
‘Nothing. I’m sorry.’
Spartacus’ eyes probed his for a long moment. ‘I’m grateful to you. You did well not to reveal that to the Gauls. Why did you not?’
‘I’m not sure,’ replied Carbo truthfully. He remembered how quarrelsome the Gauls had been. ‘Maybe it was because I suspected that they would use it as an excuse not to leave Italy.’
‘You are shrewd. I sometimes wonder if they have ever intended to do so, but news like that would set their minds in stone.’
‘Will you leave still?’
‘Of course. With every man who’ll follow me,’ said Spartacus with a confidence he was not sure he truly felt. ‘It makes sense to do so. Three large-scale defeats mean nothing to the Romans. They have a bottomless pool of men to replenish their legions. At least in Thrace I would be on my own territory, among my own people. It won’t take much to unite them and start another uprising.’ Let that be true, Great Rider.
